Chase girls
by SwirlStar
Summary: When Abigail's fifteen-year-old sister Sarah is sent to live with her, Ben, and Riley for a summer, old battles and new conflicts arise. But when Abigail most needs her help, will Sarah come to her sister's aid?
1. Arrival

This is my first NT fic, and it's been kicking around in my head for awhile. A note about the title: it was part of some sort of "Gilmore Girls" spoof sort of idea that I had, and it describes Abigail and Sarah anyway, since, well, they're Chase girls. RR…no flames please!

Chapter One

"'Overshadowed' is my middle name," Sarah Chase had always said. In reality, her middle name was Elisabeth, but she felt that Overshadowed would be far more accurate. Her sister Abigail was thirteen years her senior, beautiful, smart, and now world-famous. Sarah was quirky and clever and witty and such, but a gawky teen nonetheless. A gawky, overlooked, overshadowed teen.

For her whole life, her parents, relatives, and even friends had counted on Abigail unrelentingly—she was their heroine, their champion. The homecoming queen, the role model for countless younger girls. This whole Declaration of Independence/treasure mess only added to her superhero appeal.

Gunther and Hilda Chase were thrilled with Abigail's newfound fame and subsequent marriage and insisted that Sarah spend the summer with her dear older sister. They were getting old, they said, and it was time for them to settle down, to let the other workers run the shop. They didn't need to watch a rambunctious teen for another summer. Besides, Sarah could learn something from Abigail—Sarah was never clear what, exactly. How to be beautiful? Abigail hadn't learned that—she was just born that way. How to be smart? Sarah snorted. Abby was intelligent, she supposed, but Sarah considered herself far wittier. How to cause the country extreme inconvience? Well, there was something Abby was good at.

Sarah hadn't met the Husband since the wedding. The ceremony had been extreme anguish—FBI helicopters landing on the courtyard lawn, endless vows in both English and German (Gunther and Hilda insisted) and best man Riley's cell phone going off right before the I-dos. Sarah had drunk about fourteen Vanilla Cokes from the open bar and had to go to the bathroom thrice. In general, it was very boring and long, which was probably what the summer would be like.

Come June twenty-second, Sarah was standing in front of the Gates-Chases' giant new mansion—ridiculously large for three people. Or four, counting her.

She reached up to the intimidating brass knocker and knocked twice. There was no answer.

"IT'S SARAAAAAAH!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. After what seemed like an eternity, an unshaven Riley answered the door. His eyes were barely open, he was still in his pajamas, and he had a slice of pizza crammed into his mouth.

Sarah checked her watch. One o'clock P.M.

"Hey, Riley," she said. "It's Sarah, in case you don't remember. Sarah…Chase." Riley started rubbing his face and squinting at her. "Abigail's sister. I'm spending the summer with you guys."

He stood there for a few seconds before turning around and wandering off.

"Oh, Sarah!" She glanced up the vast staircase and saw her older sister sweeping down towards her. "How are you? Let me get your luggage."

"I'm good," muttered Sarah grudgingly as Abigail picked up her bags. "What…you don't have a butler?"

Abigail laughed. Her parents called her laugh melodious. Sarah just thought it was annoying. "Don't be absurd. What would we need a butler for?"

Sarah decided to be honest. "Babysitting Riley?"

Another laugh. "Yes, I suppose one might come in handy then!" She motioned for Sarah to follow her inside and closed the door. "You'll have to forgive Riley," she whispered to her little sister. "He's a tad hung over."

Sarah groaned. So this would be summer with Mr. and Mrs. Know-it-All and a drunken guy.

Abigail set her bags down by the stairs. "Ben will be with us shortly. He's on the phone with the university but after he's done we can all go out to lunch together."

"The university?"

"Yes, they want us to give a talk on it. Finding the treasure, you know. We're absolutely delighted. It's so wonderful to be able to share our experiences with the world."

The stupid treasure had put her normally perky sister in a state of permanent, verbose euphoria, Sarah decided. She groaned again. This was going to be one long summer.


	2. Resentment

Thank you for all the loverly reviews! ShadowOnTheMoon—Sarah's going to get her time to shine sooner or later! And Meredith, we'll see more Ben! A little in this chapter, and probably some more later.

BTW, I don't own any of this stuff except for Sarah and the plot itself. But you already figured that out. Anyway, onto the next chapter.

The restaurant they went to for lunch nice enough, but Sarah felt detached from all the breezy elegance in her cutoffs and T-shirt while scholars and politicians and celebrities swirled around her. This was Abigail's new life, she found. She did not belong anywhere in this boundless chapter of her older sister's journey.

Abigail tried to get her to talk—about school, about Mom and Dad, about everyone back home. "Do they remember me?" she wanted to know. "Do they ask about me?" And Sarah could have killed her. No one would ever forget Abigail Chase; with or without the treasure, she was indelible.

Didn't Abby see that? For all her degrees, training, adventures couldn't she see what was under her very own _nose_? Did she have to rub her perfection in Sarah's face?

Ben, too, tried to make conversation. Sarah felt bad for him: he seemed like a nice enough guy, but he didn't have a clue. She did not want to talk to him or anyone, and she was making it very obvious.

Riley was the only amusing one. Sarah though she could actually get used to him—he seemed out of place in this sophisticated world, just like she. And he was funny. And cute. She shot him a flirty smile.

"Sarah? Are you feeling all right?" Abigail forced herself into Sarah's line of vision.

Sarah had to grip on the arms of her chair in order to stop herself from strangling Miss Treasure Heroine. "Yes, Abigail," she muttered. "I am perfectly fine."

Abigail smiled. "Lovely. Check, please!" A waiter went scurrying. "Now, Sarah. Ben and I would feel very much obliged if you would accompany us to the museum here. They recently acquired several pieces of the treasure—some absolutely exquisite Middle and Late Egyptian pieces."

Riley grinned. "My goatee guy."

Abby ignored this. "So, dear, we'll be leaving as soon as we get the check. Okey dokey?"

This was becoming too much. Abigail was morphing into a suffocating mother figure before Sarah's very eyes. "Dear"? Sarah wished she could roll her eyes. As it was, she went a different route in alerting Abigail to her dissatisfaction.

"Oh, shut _up_!" Sarah stood up so quickly she knocked her plate to the floor. Spiced tofu and rice flew up in a gust of lettuce and the white porcelain shattered into hundreds of pieces. Thousands of well-known eyes turned her way. The flash of a camera enveloped her.

And Abigail looked shocked. A little angry, but mostly shocked. Up until this moment, everything in her life had been a divinely constructed story woven by the gilded quill of providence. And now her little sister was ruining it.

"I'm tired of you treating me like some stupid baby, I'm tired of you using the damn treasure as an excuse to be even more snotty and perfect, and I'm tired of you making me follow in your shadow! My life sucks more than you could ever possibly imagine! It's _always _been about you and now I'm just an extension of your perfect life for a whole summer!"

Abigail's deep brown eyes just stared at her. Sarah could tell she was torn between sadness and anger and mortification.

Ben was looking from Abigail to Sarah and back. Finally he sighed and pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

"Riley, could you please take Sarah home? And, um, we'll be along later."

Riley—who had been woken out of his stupor by Sarah's yelling—nodded reluctantly. He stood up as Sarah slipped her coat on and turned to Ben.

"Forget it. He's not even awake. I'm driving."

Ben cringed. "Do you, um, even have your license?"

Sarah shrugged. "I've got my permit. Not sure if it's valid in this—would you call it a state?—but whatever I do with the car is hardly more dangerous than what you two have done."

"Good point," chirped Riley.

Abigail drew herself to her feet. "Sarah Chase, you cannot just run off like this. Not after everything you've done here."

"No, but it's perfectly okay for you to help steal a national monument, isn't it?"

"Sarah—" Abigail stopped. And sighed. "Fine. We'll meet you back home."

Sarah turned on her heel and stalked out of the restaurant as fast as she could. Abigail crept up behind Riley.

"Go with her, Riley. Make sure she's okay."

He nodded. "I'll try." He departed with a skeptical backwards glance at Ben.

The remaining Chase sister sank down beside her husband. "I can't…I didn't realize…" She sniffed. "I feel terrible. She's never been herself…she's never known a life without me."

Ben gently took Abigail's hand. "She will shine, eventually."

A tear ran down the normally calm Abigail's cheek. "She hates me."

Ben searched for words. "Um…well, she'll warm up to you. Sooner or later."

Another sniff. "Fifteen years, and she still hasn't. She's never thought of me as her sister. I'm just a competitor."

Ben gave her a quick kiss and tasted her salty tear. "Give her time."

And they sat there, silent, as Sarah commenced her drive home.

She never made it.


	3. Disaster

Another chapter, already! Yeay. A few things about this chapter: I'm not exactly sure what police say when they report a car accident, so Ernie's lines may not be 100 accurate. Also, I know when you go back and reread it you have no idea why Sarah didn't just wait for the ambulance (I didn't) but keep in mind she's panicked, a convicted criminal was standing less than a foot from her, and she needs to find Ben and Abigail. So she's not thinking clearly. And I don't know if one can run with a broken rib, but I'm a writer, not a doctor. And she's filled with adrenaline. Oh, well. It's a good chapter anyway. At least I hope so.

Chapter Three

Riley, much as he hated to do it, had left his little red sports car back at the restaurant—over his dead body was any fifteen-year-old going to drive it. So it was Ben's boring beige sedan they drove back to the Gates domicile.

He thought it best not to talk to Sarah; she was still fuming. He didn't want to make her nervous by turning on the radio, either, but he soon discovered that watching her driving was enough entertainment. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, whipped around corners at the last minute, and talked to herself continuously. Whether this was a normal idiosyncrasy or something brought on by her anger at Abigail, he couldn't guess.

And then, less than halfway to the house outside of the city, something happened.

No one was sure what. Riley thought Sarah had skidded into something, some stupid insignificant obstacle embedded in the road. Sarah always maintained that the car broke down altogether and swung around to hit the guard rail. Whatever happened, the car first stopped and then crashed.

Sarah's breath was coming in oddly timed gasps, her lungs failing to contract when she wanted them to. Her rib had surely been crushed. Riley's window had shattered when a branch hit it, and as he was meticulously picking glass off of himself the branch forced its way into the car and whomped his forehead with surprising force. Sarah watched helplessly as he swayed and then slid to the car's floor.

She needed a cell phone, but whose? Her own was back at home, and she didn't know where Riley kept his. Unless a police car came by—and soon—they would be stranded there until someone decided to stop, and both of them needed immediate medical attention.

Panic made her breathe even more sharply, and she knew that unless she could calm down and regain her regular pattern of breathing she would pass out, too. Gently, she released her seat belt and let her hand creep into Riley's sweatshirt pocket. She discovered a tissue, some chewed-up gum, and a phone number messily scribbled on a scrap of paper—not her sister and brother-in-law's number. Hmmm. Her hand wandered into his side jean pocket now, and—there it was! A smooth, folded-up rectangle wedged deep in the pocket. She tried to drag it out, but it was nearly impossible with only one hand. A quick move of her left hand told her that arm was far too injured to be useful.

They'd be stuck here indefinitely, she knew, unless she could get that phone. Just as she was about to reach for it again, a police car pulled to a stop in front of them. Her eyes felt like they were pulling themselves away from her head as they strained to make sure it wasn't a mirage.

It wasn't.

This was too good to be true! She unrolled the window and dragged her hand out of Riley's pocket. A burly police officer arrived presently.

"Hey," she greeted him. "I guess we need, like, an ambulance."

"I'll say," he grunted. "Is this your car?"

"No, it's my brother-in-law's," she responded, hoping she wasn't going to be charged with anything. "I'm Sarah Chase. You probably know—"

"Holy crap! It's that computer whiz who masterminded that plot! Are you aware who you just knocked out, missy?" He glared.

She closed her eyes briefly. Duh. "Yes, sir, um…I'm Abigail Chase's sister. An ambulance…?"

He snapped out of his celebrity-induced stare. "Oh, yeah. My partner's calling one. We can't take you guys in the squad car 'cause we're transporting a hardened criminal." He sounded very proud of this fact. "But the ambulance will be here soon in any case. Can you please give me the number of your parent and/or guardian?"

"They're in New York." Her rib felt like it was cracking into pieces as they spoke, becoming a sort of bone confetti. "But I'm staying with my sister and brother-in-law here in D.C."

"Number?" The cop pulled out a cell phone. Sarah felt like grabbing it out of his hands and never letting it out of her sight.

Sarah dutifully gave the number and the cop dialed. "Hello? This is Ernie Sommers, of the Washington area police. I have here a teenage girl and the guy who helped steal the Declaration of Independence, in a '99 beige Camry that crashed along the highway out of the city." He put the phone against his shoulder and mouthed "What's your name?" to Sarah.

"Sarah Chase," she answered. "And this is Riley Poole."

"Says her name's Sarah Chase. The guy's name is Riley Poole. They'll be transported to the National Capital Hospital Emergency Room. We'll see you there." He hung up. "I got the answering machine."

Sarah groaned. "Of course. They're probably still at the restauraunt."

"Do you have their cell phone number?"

"No—"

Suddenly a roar erupted from the car in front of them—a roar so beastly and inhuman Sarah was surprised to see that it came from a man, a man with sharp angry features and wild blond hair. He was in the back of the police car, but even as Sarah watched he headbutted the cop driving the car and kicked his way out of the vehicle.

She recognized him, of course. She had never seen him in person, but he had been on the news and featured on the covers of the papers more than once over the last two months. At Abigail's bachelorette party, someone had even drawn a picture of him with devil horns and a tail. Her parents had jeered at him whenever his face flashed across the television screen. Abigail herself had scoffed when she heard his name, like it was an out-of-style shoe she no longer wanted to wear.

This was Ian Howe. He ran out of the police car with his hands cuffed behind his back and proceeded to beat up Ernie as best as he could. Sarah tried not to watch. Instead she laid her good hand on Riley's shoulder and tried to shake him awake. "Riley!" she half-whispered—if Ian heard the name, they were all in even more danger. "Riley!" He was done for if he didn't wake up, but with only one hand she couldn't shake him hard enough. He was completely out of it. She needed to save herself.

Pulling up the lock on the car door, she held onto her rib as she ran off down the side of the highway, back towards the city. Maybe she could catch Ben and Abigail before they left. Ernie had a gun, but Ian was a cold-blooded, resourceful villain. It couldn't be long before Ernie was injured or killed.

He was preoccupied with his battle, and he couldn't stop Sarah Chase as she raced off to the heart of the nation's capital, clutching her shattered rib as she hoped against hope time would let her find Ben and Abigail before Riley was discovered.

As cars whooshed past her at alarming speeds and clouds gathered on the horizon, it seemed almost impossible.


End file.
